


A Gamble of Thrones

by DaisytheDoodleDog



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi is a mastermind, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood, Gambling, Gangs, Gun Violence, Hinata is a smol killer, Its the mafia people what else do you need to know, M/M, Mafia AU, Minor Character Death, Mob Boss Kuroo, Mob boss Bokuto, Possible major character death?, Violence, backstabbing, fluff?, mafia, mob boss daichi, what's happening?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:47:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28160019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisytheDoodleDog/pseuds/DaisytheDoodleDog
Summary: “Bo, you’re smart, strategic, but you aren't an evil genius. So how are you making the plays that you make?” Bokuto pursed his lips, snatching the second glass of gin and throwing it back.“Your gambles are smart, Kuroo.” He responded, seemingly moving away from the topic all together. “People fear you for that reason. You’re a psychopath with the game, the ruler of the casino floor.” It was another truth. There was a throne made of glass and casino dice and Tetsurou Kuroo sat on top. “If I remember though, one person did beat you at your own game.” Kuroo’s rage did show through at this, his skin bubbling with a ticking time bomb, ready to rip out his gun and shoot the sly grin clean off Bokuto’s face. Bokuto’s lips twitched upwards at seeing him rile up. It was satisfying to see the Lion falter.“Akaashi Keiji.” Kuroo spat the name out with a venom so deep, it practically reeked with the need for revenge. Bokuto raised his head at this, his point finally dawning on Kuroo. “He stole millions from me. One man, one fucking man, nearly collasped my whole empire… he…” Kuroo’s head snapped up. “He’s your secret.`` Bokuto bit back his glowing smile. It wasn’t a question anymore.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 16
Kudos: 49





	1. The Game of Pawns

**Author's Note:**

> Hey bitches! So here's a mafia AU. I know nothing about the mafia, but I have seen the Godfather, so cut me some slack. This is mostly chaos, and its not all death and pain, it's also some fluff. Maybe some smut later? Idk guys, I'm just here to psychologically screw up all the characters, into some mixed form of gangs and Kakegurui. So anyway enjoy!
> 
> TW: Blood, violence and all that.

“You know, someone like you, probably shouldn’t be out here on your own.” A voice pierced the booming sound of the bass from inside the club, tone clear and breath reeking of cigar smoke. The man leaned closer, hands stuffed in his pockets. The woman to which he was speaking to looked up from her phone, a concealed smirk forming on her lips. 

“Someone like me?” She raised an eyebrow and licked her lips, still leaning against the wall. Her heels added to her height, but the man still towered above her. Perhaps it was his confidence, his determination, of maybe the sheer intimidation of his sly smile. 

“You know, pretty and innocent. There are some gangs handing ‘round here.” A flash of silver when he spoke, revealed a tongue piercing. The woman found this amusing, but if not anything else, it was the identifying mark. His eyes reflected the flashing lights of the club entrance, a darkness however still hanging heavy in his pupils.

“Innocent?” Her laugh was breathy and light as she stuck her hip out. “I don’t think you got that assessment quite right.” She lowered her tone, flicking her eyes upwards towards his looming smirk. 

“Oh?” He raised his eyebrows, leaning in, eyes trailing downward. Her dress was clinging tight to her thighs, the crimson red color flashy and eye catching, especially against her black hair, bangs framing her face. She let herself lean forward, a tactic to keep his eyes downward, rather than on a prideful gleam of accomplishment of catching a rat between her claws. “Prove me wrong then.” He smiled slyly, his slimy hands tugging away from his pockets to place on her waist. Just before he got that far, she wordlessly grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the busyness of the club.

Her heels clicked against the pavement, massive gold hoops swinging as she walked, tiny diamonds embedded in the metal. If he was smart he would have paid attention to those earrings, rather than the skin she was showing. Really, noticing the earrings would have given everything away. But he had a one track mind, and she knew this. 

Pulling him into the darkness of the back alleyway, he noticed that there was a gentlemen’s club next door, making him smile sadistically.  _ So this is where she worked? Made sense. _ He shoved her up against the wall, pushing their hips together and kissed her, but with a grunt she flipped him around, pinning him to the wall. He raised an eyebrow.

“Feisty.” She bit her lip, and leaned forward, catching his lips with hers, tightening her grip on his right wrist where she had pinned it above his head. She could feel his disgusting hands roam her body, but he was too immersed in that moment to realize her opposite hand pulling away from his chest. In a millisecond there was a flash of silver, and a sharp blow to his groin. He grunted, doubling over, trying to break free from her grip on his right hand, but found he stayed in place. 

“Why you by the hour whore-” He snarled, reaching for the inside of his suit jacket, but he was stopped short by the cold metal touching the tip of his neck. His eyes traced back up to meet hers, a cold glare matching a forming frown. It was then did he notice her earrings. No hooker would have a pair as expensive as these, he would know. These earrings were made of real gold with real diamonds. A gift from a sugar daddy maybe? He would’ve smirked if it wasn’t for the knife at his throat.

“Who-”

“Sawamura wants his money.” She stated simply, leaning in closer, her breath hot on his face. He growled, trying to break free, and really he should have been able to, but she was much stronger than she looked. He threw himself forward, trying to break her hold, but she jabbed her knee into his groin again, making him crumble. She tilted her head, eyes widening and mocking an innocent gaze. 

“Your lil’ sugar daddy? I don’t think so.” He snarled.

“I have a blade at your throat.” She responded evenly. Her level-headedness was far more intimidating in the shadows of the alley, and if it wasn’t for the knife, he would have considered it hot. Sue him, he loved his women. “I’ll say it again. Sawamura wants his money.” He grinned.

“And if I say no? You’ll what, kill me? Your  _ owner  _ sure wouldn’t get his money then.” She raised an eyebrow. Trying to provoke her? Not a smart move.

“Oh no.” She stated, eyes narrowing. She dug her knee further, making him wince and dragged the blade down from his neck to his chest until it pointed downward. He gulped. “Sawamura will get his money. That, or one clean swipe and your womanizing days are over.” He gulped again, his throat running dry.

“I-I… I’ll write a check. I’ll give it all to him.” He stammered out. She didn’t smile, but there was a glowing satisfaction in watching him shrink and cower. She didn’t release her grip, but she did pull open his suit jacket, tugging out a checkbook. She then grabbed his gun, releasing her hold and distancing herself from him, cocking the weapon. She nodded at him, tilting the gun, using the space between his eyebrows as the perfect target, as he scribbled out a frantic signature on the check, the massive amount of money owed, sinking him further into debt. The second his pen left the paper, she ripped it from his grasp, smoothed out her dress, and tucked his gun in her purse. 

“That was easy. Oh and just so you should know, my loving husband gave me these.” She motioned to the earrings. His lips twitched up in a sneer as he launched himself at her, going to wrap his hands around her neck and shove her to the ground, but she was too quick, dodging his enraged movements, and slamming her fist into his jaw. A sickening crack echoed through the alley, but the sound wasn’t nearly as satisfying as watching body slump back against the wall, blood pooling in his mouth, and tainting the shiny tongue piercing. 

“Like I said, easy.”

...

“Next time do your own dirty work, Daichi.” Daichi looked from his laptop, smiling. He watched her storm into his office, peeling off the pumps and leaving them discarded on the floor.

“I can always count on you though, Kiyoko.” She slapped down the check and the gun with a gold engraved trigger on the table. She snatched the glasses case off his desk and placed them on her face, hastily pulling her hair into a bun. “Where is Terushima?”

“Passed out in some alleyway.” Daichi raised his head, resting his chin in his hands. His index finger tapped the diamond ring on his finger, waiting patiently for Kiyoko to continue. When she didn’t -which he should have expected, she was a woman of few words- he pressed her.

“Did you have to draw blood?” She looked at him and snorted, and motioned for him to turn around in his chair, which he did. 

“No, he was a coward.” She peeled off her dress kicking it across the room. She went over to the dresser across from the desk, and pulled open a drawer, a black robe inside. She slid it on, and tied it at her waist. Daichi exhaled and leaned back in his chair, humming as he waited for her to finish changing. Slowly he turned back around, reaching for his pen, and clicking it on and off. 

“That’s a shame.” She nodded in agreement. 

“Indeed. I’m going to go shower the disgusting feeling of his hands off. Oh, but you get to tell Tanaka what you had me do. I can’t wait for him to tear you to shreds.” Daichi smiled and rolled his eyes. 

“I could have him end up in a tragic car accident in minutes you know.” He called out to her as she stalked towards the door. She caught the edge of the entryway, peeking her head back in.

“But you wouldn’t… softie.” The nickname made him scowl, but before he could retort, she was already gone. He barely got the change to sigh, before another, much more enthusiastic voice called out to him.

“Daichi, sir- oh hi Kiyo- Oh you’re upset, we can talk later.” Hinata entered the room, eyebrows knitted as he tried to process Kiyoko’s bad mood, before tripping over her discarded heels, nearly faceplanting, if it wasn’t for his quick reflexes allowing him to catch the desk. “Sir! Sorry, I didn’t see the shoes! I’ve got some news for you.”

“Hinata! Right on time kid! How’ve you been?” Hinata looked up at him, ginger hair flopping in his face.

“Umm, good sir! I beat Tanaka’s shooting record. I hit seven targets in 8.2 seconds.”

“Impressive. You’ll be the big man on the throne someday.” Hinata absolutely beamed at the statement as he bounced up to Daichi’s desk, handing him a file. 

“Thank you sir. Umm, so there is some good and not good news. I have your statement, that's the good news. Karasuno just surpassed Seijoh's worth, and we are narrowly behind Nekoma. Uh, but the bad news is that Nekoma has some… not so nice words for you.” Daichi let out a laugh, but Hinata did not find it funny in the least bit.

“He’s challenged you to a gamble.” Daichi’s head perked up. Now this was interesting.

“Oh?” A gamble from Kuroo Tetsurou? That was not a simple game of poker. Getting the challenging offer in itself was not only an honour, because it deemed Daichi a threat to Nekoma’s empire, but it was an opportunity to take down the king of the jungle himself. Others had accepted the challenge before, obviously nobody had won, Kuroo was a genius. He knew the insides and outs of human psychology, he was an expert strategist, not to mention a genius cheater. A gamble with Kuroo was not a gamble of money, or stock, or trade, it was a gamble of life.

“Yes and well, after what happened to Daishou… I… I don’t want anything to happen to you!” Daichi frowned, looking at Hinata as he fidgeted nervously with the papers in his hands. Hinata was small, reminding Daichi of a child, even though he was pushing 20. Daichi had found Hinata on the streets at the age of fourteen, trying to mug another boy, who in turn, was trying to mug Hinata. The standoff was rather comical in retrospect, but Daichi had cut them off behind a building, where he learned that the two boys were homeless. Hinata had been trying to collect enough money to feed his little sister, and Kageyama- the name of the other boy Hinata had gotten into the tussle with, was an orphan, simply trying to survive in a world that treated him like dirt. Daichi had taken pity on the two and brought them to his penthouse overlooking the city, not as glamorous as the one he had now of course, his empire was still in the works back then, but Suga had grinned when he saw Daichi haul the two boys (and Hinata’s little sister) into the house, and immediately took them in. 

After that, Daichi had taken quite the liking to gathering children who were victims to the capitalist society, victims of a government that only pretended to care. He trained them to be his men, gave them shelter, hot meals, sent them off to get a real education. Karasuno wasn’t on the throne of mafia empires, no that spot was reserved to Fukordani, but it was accurate to say that out of all the groups, Karasuno had the strongest loyalties, most powerful connections. 

“Relax Hinata. I’ll go meet up with Kuroo, and try to sort things out. But even if we were to gamble, that rooster head couldn’t beat me.”

“B-b-but! You saw what happened to Daishou! His whole organization collapsed after his death! What if-”

“Hinata, I see your worries, but even if something were to happen to me, I have the best men for the job. Go home to Kageyama and have a night in. Trust me, Kuroo is nothing more than an egoistic pretty boy.” Hinata opened his mouth to argue, but found it was best to lock his jaw and keep quiet. He thanked Daichi quickly and hurried out of the room.

“Oh! Daichi, sir? I don’t know what happened, but Kiyoko looks sorta scary right now. Is she okay?” Daichi laughed.

“Ah yes. I’m paying her double so even if she still wants to slit my throat, she’ll be content by the morning.” Hinata nodded, sending a thumbs up, before sprinting out of the room and down the hall. 

Daichi leaned back in his chair again, glancing at his laptop screen, the virtual bidding war flashing numbers that continued to skyrocket into the millions. Daichi smiled, clicking his pen again, watching as the money came flowing in.

Oh he would hear from Kuroo about this. The thought made him smile.

Daichi sighed once he was sure he was alone, and stood, finding himself gazing out the tall windows of his office, watching cars get caught in traffic below. If he could take down Kuroo… there would be all out war, there was no doubt, but if he could take down the Lion, as he was notoriously nicknamed, then Karasuno would be at the top… that would leave Fukorodani. 

Of course as confident as Daichi was, he was a realistic man. There would be no taking down Fukurodani.

“Daichi sir?” Another voice. Daichi would have growled and cursed at them to get out, but this one was different. He smirked and let a pair of hands slide around his waist, a matching diamond ring intertwining with his fingers.

“You can drop the formalities, Koushi.” Suga chuckled behind him, resting his chin on his shoulder.

“You wanna go home?”

“I should finish watching the bidding.” Suag glanced back at the computer screen, humming as he watched the numbers go up. At this rate, Daichi and him could get a nice penthouse in Brazil.

“Hmm… what if I told you Tanaka was only five minutes from bursting in here with a gun, ready to kill you after you sent his wife out to hook up with Terushima?” Daichi grinned and leaned back into his embrace.

“Oh well next time, I’ll make sure to stick Noya in the dress and have him lure in the next one.” Suga laughed and pulled at his hand.

“Let’s go home Daichi.” Daichi may have been one of the most feared men in Japan, reigning an empire of illegal dealings, a heavy body count on his back and millions in his bank, but Sawamura Daichi was never one to deny his husband anything.

Because if there was anything scarier than the greatest mafia empires in the world, it was one Sugawara Koushi.

…

“Hey there kitten.”

“I told you not to call me that.” Kenma was laying sideways in the massive chair, draped in velvet, gold rim tracing the headboard. A possession from Versailles, Kuroo was an admirer of such French designs. His legs hung over the arms of the chair as he stared at his phone, tuning the rest of the world out. Kuroo pushed his legs to the side, sitting on the edge of the arm, resting a hand on Kenma’s shin.

“I think I’ll call you whatever I want.” He smirked. Kenma didn’t look up from his phone, clearly bored with Kuroo’s antics. 

“And I think I’ll beat your ass if you call me ‘kitten’ one more time.” Kenma responded shortly. Kuroo let out a bark of laughter, standing only to lean down and kiss him. 

“You really shouldn’t make threats like that, kitten.” He growled low, and that caught Kenma’s attention, making him glance up from the screen to meet Kuroo’s eyes. He could’ve sworn they glowed red from the lights of downtown Tokyo outside. Kenma scoffed and pushed his shoulder away.

“Don’t forget who gets you the pretty rings on your fingers.” Kenma’s eyes went back to his phone, but he pointed to the rings on Kuroo’s fingers, gold bands with sharp, jagged edges. “And the watch. And the chair I’m sitting on.” Kuroo pursed his lips, and leaned down, kissing Kema’s hairline.

“Touche kitten. Anyway, I’m going out. You stay here, got that? I don’t want any risks. I’ve called for the jet to send you out to Moscow in the morning. Those sonofbitches aren’t going anywhere near you.” Kenma rolled his eyes, pretending that he didn’t care… although it was nice. It was nice that Kuroo would go to such lengths to protect him, even if that meant sending Kenma out to Lev in Moscow until things calmed down. Kenma wrinkled his nose at the thought of having to hang out with Lev for a weekend.

Maybe he would rather be shot.

“Okay. Are you gambling?” Kuroo, readjusted his tie and shook his head.

“No. Meeting up with a friend.” Kenma scoffed again at Kuroo’s wording, going back to mindlessly playing games on his phone, barely acknowledging Kuroo’s goodbye with anything more than a grunt. His eyes caught the sign of Yaku, who stood by the door, the short man, the best of the best when it came to protection. Kenma watched Yaku mess with his gun, cleaning it out, and taking it apart to put it back together, no doubt out of boredom. Kenma could understand that.

Yaku was built to kill. He had pulled up more body count’s than anyone else, besides Kuroo maybe, who seemed to have a fascination with blood. He was the one to come up with those oddly inspiring speeches about “we being the blood that flows through our veins,” after all. Kenma always held back the urge to roll his eyes at that. But Yaku hated moments of calm like this, where he was left guarding Kuroo’s most precious possessions, his most important person. Yaku wanted to shoot. He was itching to kill. He was insatiable about it. Kenma wondered how long it would be before Yaku challenged Kuroo to a gamble, not for the empire, but simply for the thrill of it.

…

Kuroo felt like a fish out of water, a precariously handsome man in a three-piece suit entering the garbage of a place, with litter on the streets, men dressed in rags begging him for some spare change. Kuroo would simply grin at them and ignore the rest of their pleas. He pulled open the rusted door of the almost abandoned looking office space, blinking at the soft golden light that filled his view as he entered. The bar was a little best kept secret, a good place for meetings, an even better place for a shoot out. He grinned as he passed a few paintings on the wall, there only to cover up the bullet holes, most of them one he put there. 

“Ah-ha! There he is!” Kuroo smiled, clapping his hands together as he nodded at the bartender for the usual.

“Bo! The man of the hour.” Kuroo slapped Bokuto on the back, sliding onto the barstool next to him, peering at the glass in Bokuto’s hand, wondering what he was drinking.

“How’s it going?”

“Ah, you know. Stained my favorite suit today. Damn amateurs thinking they can pull a gun on me. “ Kuroo widened his eyes, tilting his head curiously. His drink was placed in front of him, and he nodded a quick thanks at the bartender, taking a sip and waiting for Bokuto to continue. 

“On you? Bokuto of Fukurodani?” Bokuto slapped the counter and laughed.

“Like I said! Amateurs! Still a shame on the suit…” Bokuto trailed off, pulling the lime off the edge of his drink, sucking the juices out of the pulp. His cheery expression dropped in an instant, owl-like eyes watching Kuroo carefully. Kuroo was a pathological liar, nearly impossible to read. Oh but Bokuto knew things. “Enough on the small talk. Word got out that you’ve challenged Daichi to a gamble. You don’t hand those out lightly.” Kuroo snorted, looking down at the amber liquid swirling in his glass. His lips formed a thin line, but otherwise he appeared void of emotion. Bokuto was told that eyes were the gateway to the soul, and he believed it, after all, the thrill of killing all was in watching the souls dim behind the pupils. But Kuroo’s eyes were empty, a truly curious thing, but then again, it was all part of his game. All part of the gamble. Bokuto resisted the urge to smile as he glanced down at Kuroo’s hands, his index finger tapping the hickory countertop.

“As much as I hate to admit it, he’s a steadily rising threat. It’s better to put him in his place.” He replied steadily. His index finger stopped tapping, and Bokuto quickly brought his eyes back up to his drink. Kuroo had caught him staring at his hand.

“And you’re not worried about…” Bokuto trailed off, leaning closer and lowering his tone. “Sugawara?” He hissed out the name, like the meer sound of it would 

summon the devil himself. Kuroo scoffed this time, leaning his arm on the counter, pulling out a cigar and twisting it between his fingers. Bokuto gaped at him.

“You know who he is? Daichi’s a feared man, but there is nobody nearly as dangerous as Sugawara.” It was true. Suga was the devil. A man who didn’t kill as a job, but as a passion. He didn’t just love the execution, he loved the  _ hunt _ , which set him another level. He was good at his job, almost too good by the way he smiled, the way he never ended a soul with a quick bullet to the brain, but made it slower. Bokuto knew better than to cross him.

“No. I challenged Daichi. When I win, which I always do, I’ll just sync Yaku on Suga. The two of them can fight it out like dogs. Actually, I bet it would be quite amusing.” Kuroo chuckled and lit the cigar, taking a brief drag, before handing it to Bokuto. Bokuto fiddled with it between his thumb and middle finger, before putting it to his lips and taking a puff, exhaling the smoke in a thin cloud around his head.

“But I have a question for you. How is it that for four years now, there has not been a single threat out against you? Even from Nekoma, we haven’t instigated a fight, even with these secret alliances, which you know, there will always be a traitor.” Bokuto chuckled at that, handing the cigar back, tapping the loose ashes onto the counter.

“I’m at the top Kuroo. There’s not a single person in their right mind who would try and take me down.”

“You were at the top four years ago too. And people were threatening you all the time. But you’ve reached a stability that is almost unnatural. What’s your secret Bo?” Bokuto laughed, snapping his fingers for another drink.

“You and the others focus on strengths. You all are, the kings make the kingdom of knights. But I look at it as, the knights make my kingdom, not the king. I focus on weaknesses. You could stand to evaluate your weaknesses more, Kuroo. It could secure a spot above Karasuno.” Kuroo nodded, and while there was no gleam of emotion in his eyes, Bokuto could tell he was heavily considering his words. Bokuto’s eyes trailed down to Kuroo’s hand again, as he absentmindedly cracked each knuckle with his thumb.

_ Trying to ease nerves _ . It was the first thought in Bokuto’s mind, although it wasn’t his own voice talking. Bokuto could resist a smirk.  _ He  _ had been right, as always.

“I know you're nervous. Daichi isn’t one to falter.” Bokuto teased, testing the waters. A physiological game. A taste of his own medicine, Bokuto concluded. Kuroo chose to ignore the last comment, keeping his narrowed glare on Bokuto, rather than on his drink. He would not show an ounce of emotion.

“Bo, you’re smart, strategic, but you aren't an evil genius. So how are you making the plays that you make?” Bokuto pursed his lips, snatching the second glass of gin and throwing it back. 

“Your gambles are smart, Kuroo.” He responded, seemingly moving away from the topic all together. “People fear you for that reason. You’re a psychopath with the game, the ruler of the casino floor.” It was another truth. There was a throne made of glass and casino dice and Tetsurou Kuroo sat on top. “If I remember though, one person did beat you at your own game.” Kuroo’s rage did show through at this, his skin bubbling with a ticking time bomb, ready to rip out his gun and shoot the sly grin clean off Bokuto’s face. Bokuto’s lips twitched upwards at seeing him rile up. It was satisfying to see the lion falter.

“ _ Akaashi Keiji _ .” Kuroo spat the name out with a venom so deep, it practically reeked with the need for revenge. Bokuto raised his head at this, his point finally dawning on Kuroo. “He stole millions from me. One man, one fucking man, nearly collasped my whole empire… he…” Kuroo’s head snapped up. “He’s your secret.`` Bokuto bit back his glowing smile. It wasn’t a question anymore.

And then Kuroo laughed. Bokuto had not expected that response. He was waiting for an explosion, a declaration of war at the very least, but Kuroo was laughing. Bokuto couldn’t help but chuckle with him. Kuroo slapped him on the back, regaining his composure and turning back to him.

“So let’s see. The king himself, the big man of Japan, is really nothing more than a pawn in Akaashi’s game. A servant to do his bidding.” Kuroo let out another laugh and oh did that tick Bokuto off, because Kuroo’s laugh was cut off with a strangled grunt as Bokuto’s massive hands caught his throat, nails tearing at his skin as Kuroo’s head slammed against the counter. His eyes flicked back to the bartender who didn’t even flinch, then drew his gaze back to Bokuto’s bolting eyes. He smirked, struggling to get air in.

“Say that again, I  _ dare  _ you. Akaashi is my right hand man.” He loosened his grip just enough so Kuroo could rasp out a reply. Kuroo gaped for air, chest heaving. He licked his lips and watched the emotion in Bokuto’s eyes. That was the difference between them. Kuroo was able to without all emotion, and Bokuto let it overtake him. It was a different, but equal type of deadly.

“And by that response-” Kuroo paused to gasp for air, piecing it all together. “He’s much more than just that.” Kuroo wiggled his eyebrows as Bokuto slammed his head into the counter again with a harsh shove just for good measure, before letting go and returning to his seat. Bokuto dragged a hand over his face, his rings glowing in the dim lighting of the bar. There was a new one on his finger, not a engagement ring -so the relationship was new… that or  _ hidden-  _ but the ring was a simple silver band with a star engraved in the front. Curious.

“We’re allies Kuroo. And he’s not a secret per se, but he is my greatest strength. He’s the queen on my game board.” Kuroo hummed in response, rubbing his neck and the ache that gathered in the muscles from the force of the shove. He smoothed out his suit collar, and shifted back in his seat. There was succinct silence as he swirled the ice in his drink, taking a quick sip, before glancing back over at Bokuto.

“And your greatest weakness.” Bokuto remained expressionless, which only proved Kuroo’s point. Kuroo rifled through his suit pocket and pulled out a second cigar, slapping it down on the table as well as a tip for the bartender, before standing. He took another drag from his own cigar, blowing the puff of smoke into Bokuto’s face. 

“Don’t worry, Bo. Your secret’s safe with me. We’re allies after all. Just know that if you weren’t standing in front, I would personally crush  _ Akaashi Keiji  _ between my teeth. But like I said, We’re friends and friends don’t do that.” Kuroo turned with a wave of his hand and left the shabby little bar and Bokuto on the stool. Despite the information he had just learned, the advantage Kuroo should have gained, he still felt the lingering feeling of defeat.

But to what game he had lost to, had yet to become clear to him. 


	2. What Makes a Traitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Here's another chapter hehe. 
> 
> Go to the end for more notes!!
> 
> tw: Blood, violence, minor character death
> 
> There is also a warning in this chapter, that while nothing gruesome was written in detail, there is a reference to a death that was rather brutal. To skip it, stop reading at " but Suga snickered behind him" and start reading again at "“You still disobeyed me Tanaka."

Bokuto went home to his estate not long after his meet up with Kuroo. His men let him in without a word, guns held close to their chests.

“Kou?” Bokuto didn’t respond as he stormed into the massive bedroom with the king sized bed. Akaashi looked up from his lap, glasses pressed to his face. He was already in a robe, blankets pulled up to his knees as he was immersed in whatever book he was reading. Bokuto would have found it adorable, if the question wasn’t burning through him.

Kuroo might have been playing a game, trying to manipulate his emotions, tear away at his sanity, and he shouldn’t have let it get to him, but it did. Kuroo would do all those things, but he also wasn’t one to do these things without reason. Maybe it was concern that made Kuroo say what he said. It was understandable. The two would always look out for each other.

_ There will always be a traitor. _ The words buzzed through him. This was for Bokuto’s own good. This was to prove  _ loyalties _ . 

“Am I a pawn?” Akaashi looked up at him, head tilted in confusion. Bokuto refused to look at him, fists clenched tight at his sides. “A pawn? In your game?” Bokuto repeated, louder this time, eyes narrowed. 

“Kou, what would make you think that?” Concern laced his tone, his expression authentic as he quickly discarded his book and crawled out of bed, padding over to where Bokuto stood by the windows. He pulled the robe tighter around himself, reaching out to rest a gentle hand on Bokuto’s wrist.

“It’s nothing.” Bokuto growled, his eyes still filled with an impending rage. And behind that, uncertainty. Bokuto was never wishy-washy about anything. So how come all of a sudden, it felt as if the world was moving too fast?

“It’s not nothing. What sparked this?” Akaashi’s fingers were warm around his wrist, a pillar of stability.

“My little chat with Kuroo got me thinking. What’s stopping you from controlling all of Fukorodani? What’s stopping you from murdering me in my sleep and taking over everything? You could do that, with ease. You outsmarted Kuroo at his own fucking game. You could take down all of Karasuno and Shiratorizawa with a snap of your fingers. So what’s stopping you?” Akaashi scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Well for one thing, if I tried to harm you, your beefy little body guards would take me down in an instant. They might protect me too, but they are  _ your  _ men. But that’s not what’s really stopping me. You’re right. I could take you down.”

“That supposed to make me feel better?” Akaashi smiled softly.

“Not really. But my point is, it’s about trust. I don’t want to be a leader of the mafia, I hate getting my hands dirty. I don’t want to destroy you or really anyone for that matter. I just want you to be the brightest star you can be. It’s what drew me to you in the first place. Not the money, not the luxury, not the power, but you. Whether you believe me or not, it's not my place to make that decision, but I'm not a pathological liar, like Kuroo. You can read my eyes.” Bokuto caught his gaze, and slowly wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him closer. Bokuto heard his words, but it was the complete admiration and love in his eyes that put emphasis on them. The pair basked in the moonlight leaking through the windows, swaying softly on the balls of their feet, Akaashi’s thumb tip tracing his jaw.

The fact that Bokuto was a ruthless killer was easily forgotten in the strangest way. And the fact that Akaashi was the most powerful mind in the mafia, was discarded.. Maybe that’s why they found each other. It was moments like this that they could forget the truth about themselves, could put their monsters to the side and simply be them.

“I think Kuroo caught my ring.” Akaashi glanced down, taking Bokuto’s hand in his, twisting the simple silver band. The little star in the center was not there by accident. Call it a mark of territory if you wanted to, but it was a sign of devotion, without screaming from the rooftops that Akaashi Keiji slept in a bed with Bokuto Koutarou. 

“He’s trying to get under your skin. You two are the closest thing to the definition of friends in the mafia. How did he react when he told you?” Bokuto smirked.

“Exactly what you said he’d do.” Akaashi kissed him soundly, letting his lips linger against Bokuto’s, a teasing game, making Bokuto lean heavily into his touch.

“This isn’t any big scheme, you know that right? This is just a simple test of loyalties. Now he’s the pawn in  _ our  _ game.” Akaashi sighed contently, letting Bokuto hold onto his weight.

“It’s hot when you talk in metaphors.” Bokuto grinned, kissing his nose. Akaashi scoffed lightly, staring at the golden eyes that reflected far more than the accumulating wealth and bronzy glow of blood at dawn. Akaashi found they reflected the stars, and it was rather fitting. Bokuto was his star after all.

“You’re incredibly immature Koutarou.” Akaashi’s hand trailed down his chest, eyes catching the thin dots of blood on his white undershirt. Someone had threatened  _ his  _ Koutarou's life. Despite the collected expression, there was a twitch of anger coiling in his gut.

“Call me Koutarou again.” Bokuto grinned, hand tracing down Akaashi’s spine, stopping where his spine flowed into his tailbone. He pulled Akaashi closer to him, pressing their chests flush against each other, noses just centimeters apart.

“Go brush your teeth  _ Bokuto-san _ . It reeks of cigar smoke.” Bokuto puffed out his bottom lip in a pout, making Akaashi cup his face and kiss him swiftly, before wiggling out of his grip, and returning to spot on the bed. Akaashi turned back to him, a sly smile creeping onto his face, a rare expression, one that also happened to make Bokuto’s knees buckle. “But maybe then we can talk…  _ Koutarou _ .”

Needless to say Bokuto never brushed his teeth so fast in his life.

…

Daichi folded his hands together, his gaze shifting around the room in an intimidating glower. He stared down Nishinoya, who grinned like a maniac despite the glare written across Daichi’s expression. Daichi then found himself glancing at Suga as he cleaned the gun parts in front of him, meticulous about how each piece was wiped until it sparkled in the light. Suga pointed the gun at his face, staring down the mouth and the darkness inside where the bullet was released. He had a fascination with the way the gun worked, shifting the weight of it between his hands, before setting it back down. He paid Daichi no attention, which if it were anyone else, would have released the brutal monster that he was, but this was Suga. Suga could do whatever he wanted in Daichi’s presence and there would be no consequence. 

“So…” Daichi started, glancing over at Hinata who was busy kicking Kageyama under the table, the two of them mouthing curses at each other as Hinata dug the heel of his shoe into Kageyama’s foot. Hinata’s head snapped back up to attention, giving one more, firm kick of the toe of his shoe into Kageyama’s shin. Daichi then stared directly down the table to where Kiyoko sat, inspecting her nails, a solemn expression holding firm. It did not go unnoticed by the empty seat next to her.

“Has anyone seen the news?” Such a simple question, if it didn’t hold such malice behind it. Hinata stiffened.

“Umm… is that a rhetorical question sir?” Hinata piped up and if it weren’t for the circumstance, Daichi would have laughed and ruffled his hair. But Daichi was absolutely seething.

“No. I want to make sure we’re all on the same page.” His eyes stayed on Kiyoko who looked up at him, gold hoops tangled in her hair. Everyone exchanged glances before nodding slightly.

“I gave a simple job. A very simple job. I wanted my money, and I got it. But I wanted it done so that it wouldn’t draw attention to me. The cops are on our asses, and I specifically said not to kill.” Everyone gulped, eyeing Kiyoko nervously. She however looked completely unfazed. She raised her chin and spoke softly, although her words were clear.

“And I executed it perfectly.” She didn’t smile, but you could see the pride in the way she pursed her lips.

“You did… So then tell me, how did Terushima’s death make front page headlines?” The room held such a thick silence the only thing big enough to take it down was if Suga pulled the trigger. 

Before anyone had the nerve to speak up, the door was thrown open, sending everyone’s heads pointing in the same direction, staring down Tanaka. His navy blue suit was stained with blood splatters, he never did mind getting a little dirty on a job.

“Tanaka.” Daichi said shortly, sending Hinata’s head flying back and forth between the two men as he gawked at them.

“What’s up boss man?” Tanaka responded, keeping his cool. He sent a wink in Noya’s direction who slapped a hand over his mouth to suppress his own giggles.

“Maybe you could answer my question. How come Terushima’s death made front headlines?” Nishinoya cracked a grin as Tanaka shrugged.

“Oh that? I killed him. But ye have little faith. I left no evidence.” Kiyoko’s lips twitched into the slightest smile.

“So you disobeyed a direct order for a petty revenge story?” Steam was practically flying from Daichi’s ears. In a blink of an eye, Daichi had stood, snatching Suga’s gun from beside him and had it pointed directly between Tanaka’s eyes.

Tanaka didn’t flinch, neither did Kiyoko. Hinata looked as if was about to pass out. Daichi’s finger grazed the metal of the trigger, eyeing Tanaka carefully. The fact that he hadn’t shot him yet, made it clear that he did not plan on shooting at all. Suga rose from his seat cautiously, placing a hand over Daichi’s, lowering the weapon.

“That would be a mistake.” Suga said carefully. “Tanaka’s our best hitman. And don’t you think that if I were Kiyoko you would have done any less?” Daichi sent Suga a deep glare, but Suga simply smiled, taking the gun from Daichi’s hand. Hinata exhaled in relief, but Suga immediately redirected the gun and pulled the trigger. With a deafening  _ pop, _ the bullet flew past their eyes, nothing more than a faint streak through the air before it hit the wall behind them. Tanaka yelped in pain, reaching up to hold his bleeding ear, warm blood slipping between his fingers. He pulled his hands away, inspecting his ear. The bullet had just grazed him, but it still hurt like a bitch.

“I never miss, Tanaka.” A chill ran down Tanaka’s back, not daring to glance at the bullet hole in the wall being him. “Terushima’s death was a warning. It was on the borders of Seijoh, so if the cops connect it back to the mafia, then they are in just the same deep shit. Tanaka left no evidence. Problem solved.” Suga narrowed his eyes for a split second, one that told everyone to sit back down or they might as well stare down the barrel of the gun.

“Oh, but we must give credit where credit’s due. It was a very clean kill.” For Sugawara to be impressed said something about the articulate measures one took to make the kill. Tanaka let a hint of a smile escape as he sat down next to Kiyoko, still nursing his bleeding ear. It was at that point that Nishinoya finally burst out laughing, a boisterous bark as he pounded the table with his fist. Tanaka’s grin widened as he raised his eyebrows in Daichi’s direction. Daichi did not at all look amused, but Suga snickered behind him. 

“-Y-you! You cut off his-” Noya couldn’t get the words out as he doubled over, laughing so hard tears poured down his face. Hinata’s eyes widened, glancing between the two, finally connecting the pieces. It was when Hinata mouthed the word “ding-dong” did Suga lose it too, kicking his feet up onto the table and throwing his head back as he laughed. Daichi cleared his throat, impatient waiting for his team of utter baboons to cool off, but nonetheless finding it ever so slightly amusing, just the lengths Tanaka was willing to go for her.

“You still disobeyed me Tanaka. I’m taking away your next assignment and your payment.” Tanaka’s smile dropped with a grumble, but he didn’t argue. That was fair.

“Hinata. Kageyama. You two are now in charge of the job.”

…

“Kenma’s secure, boss.” Kuroo tapped his finger against his desk, holding the phone close to his mouth. 

“Keep it that way.” A muffled ‘yes sir’ came from the other line, before Kuroo hung up, sighing as he sat back in his chair. He revisited his conversation from the night before, weighing his next options on the matter. There were two moves he could make. Well, really there were three, but he didn’t dare choose the third option.

The first was that he could continue the partnership with Fukorodani, just as they had been since he took over the family business. He wouldn’t get over Akaashi and the need to watch him bleed out before him, but Kuroo wouldn’t risk his relationship with Bokuto. Plus he was well aware of payback in the industry. He wasn’t willing to put Kenma in danger for the sole purpose of revenge. Kuroo thought back to when he was a child, still barely grasping the big boss man in front of him. The man he never dared called “dad” even though that was who he was. The boss started training him on their estate from a young age, and it quickly became evident of Kuroo’s gambling abilities. Although that should have been the sole purpose of Kuroos existence, Kuroo couldn’t have cared less about gambling at that age. He wanted nothing more than to hunt bugs and feed stray cats with Bokuto.

They had been childhood best friends. They were practically brothers, and because of the alliances between their families, every gathering, Bokuto would be there and the two would be attached at the hip. It had been like that for as long as Kuroo could remember. That was of course until the boss sent out a hit on Bokuto’s mother.

Kuroo still winced at the memory of the sound Bokuto made as he watched his mother’s blood pool underneath her cold body. And that was the last time he was allowed to see Bokuto.

After that they were sworn enemies, and Kuroo was forced to focus on taking down Fukurodani. Nekoma rose to the top after that, and Kuroo was pushed, further and further down the rabbit hole, until he was sure he could feel his humanity beaten out of him.

At first he hated it. At first he wanted nothing more than to tell the boss to kindly fuck himself, and run away.

But after a while, a long while after poker chips poisoned his veins and he was numb to gunshots, he began to enjoy it.

When the boss died at the hands of Fukorodani, in a brutal shootout, Kuroo took over the entire empire. He was eighteen. The boss's death had sunk Nekoma deep into debt, nearly collapsing the business, but Kuroo fought tooth and nail until he clawed his way to the top again. By then Bokuto was of age to take over the business, and that’s when they saw each other again, by complete coincidence on the beaches of their Brazil estates.

Kuroo had expected them to tear each other's throats out. After all, Kuroo's father was a traitor. But it was the opposite. Instead they played beach volleyball like they would as kids and talked nonsense. Kuroo almost felt human after that, and Bokuto admitted that he had lost compassion after their childhoods ended so abruptly. Kuroo would argue they never had a childhood to be stolen from them to begin with. But that was the past and so the two shook hands, and there reformed the most powerful alliance in Japan.

He tapped his fingers against the desk. Option one was by far the smartest move. He didn’t want to hurt Bokuto, even if that meant he couldn’t wrap his hands around Akaashi’s neck and snap it in one motion. 

Kuroo thought through his second option. He could manipulate the game. Kuroo was never one to play it safe, but he knew that Akaashi was a mastermind. And his conversation with Bokuto had been manipulated by Akaashi. He didn’t know how or why, but he could tell the very second Bokuto let his anger show through. 

Akaashi knew everything. He predicted every move, read every person, had a strategy for every circumstance. He was not by any means, a killer. No Akaashi wasn’t like that, he hated to get his hands dirty. But Akaashi Keiji was evil. That Kuroo was sure of. And yeah, Kuroo was no goody-two shoes, none of them were by any means anywhere close to being  _ good, _ but there was something about even making the bad guys fear the dark, that was so beyond human.

But if Kuroo could worm his way to the true plans that Akaashi had no doubt thought through, if he could outsmart Akaashi, then maybe he could protect his empire and feel just the slightest bit of satisfaction. The problem was how far he was willing to go.

…

“I have eyes on the target.” Kageyama’s voice rang through Hinata’s right ear. Hinata gave a slight nod, and let his finger hover above the trigger. 

“We should get pork buns after this.” Hinata’s stomach growled, making him shift around in his position. The concrete was hard against his chest, any longer, and he might’ve exploded with anticipation.

“Focus, stupid!” Kageyama hissed through the intercom. “They’re walking down from the right.” Hinata peered through the lens, watching civilians walk down the street, the evening sun casting a warm glow over the sidewalks. It was a pleasant evening. Such a shame it was about to be someone’s last.

“Right! They’re in my sights. You got access to my location?” Kageyama hummed a response that meant yes. Hinata shifted his weight on his stomach, holding the sniper comfortably through the slots of the railing, where he was perched. Exhaling calmly, Hinata  _ closed  _ his eyes.

“Reaadyy… Now!” The second the syllable escaped from Kageyama, Hinata pressed the trigger, the forceful release of the bullet jolting him back. Hinata’s eyes flew open at the sounds of screams from the streets below and with a satisfied smile, he caught the man he had shot. It was a perfect execution.

“You never fail me bakeyama!” Hinata grinned, swiftly folding up and packing it away in the briefcase. He clicked on the safety lock on both the gun and the briefcase and stood. “So about those pork buns?” There was an exasperated sigh through the intercoms, but Hinata’s grin broadened, knowing it was a yes. There was a slight pause, to which Hinata whispered Kageyama’s name, but there was no response.

“Tob-”

“Shit! Hinata get out of there! NOW!” Kageyama’s voice blasted through his ear drum, making his adrenaline spike as he frantically looked for a quick exit. 

“They’re coming up the stairs! Hinata! Take the fire escape!” Hinata glanced to the rusted metal escape to his right, sliding the briefcase across the ground, taking one last look over his shoulder before breaking into a sprint. He twisted around the metal platform, snatching the briefcase and scrambling down the ladder, hissing as he sliced his hand across the jagged rusted nails sticking out from the worn metal. His head shot up at the sound of voices, eyes widening.

“They’re on the roof! Hinata you have to jump!” Hinata caught the open window across the narrow strip of alley, the other side dark. He didn’t have enough time to think, nor did he have enough time as the voices neared and he could already hear the sound of weapons being cocked. He exhaled once, hastily swinging the briefcase through the open window, cringing at the sound it made as it hit the floor, and there were gunshots, but Hinata had tuned them out as he was suddenly flying.

It was only for a second, but he landed clumsily on the windowsill, scrambling inside, feeling the bullets pelt the bricks next to him. With a grunt he fell headfirst inside the room, ducking low and staying out of sight. The bullets coming down like rain drops, flying through the window, shattering glass shards into his hair, and blowing up the musty wooden floors at his feet. Hinata threw his hands over his head and crouched down, somehow still hearing his own heartbeat over the gunshot echoes. After another thirty seconds of the storm of bullets, everything went quiet. Hinata stayed still, listening and waiting. It could have been a trap, but then he heard the voices begin to fade. He heard a man curse from above and then the sigh of relief that came from both the intercom and the person standing in front of him.

“Kageyama!” Hinata bounced up, brushing off his pants and his shirt, which had a tear right down the side. He flung himself into Kageyama’s arms, pushing them away from the open window in case any more stray bullets were to make their way in their direction. Kageyama stumbled back with an annoyed grunt.

“Shit Hinata. That was close.” Kageyama breathed out into his hair before quickly letting go.

“Yeah! Damn  Seijoh ! How did they know we’d be here?” Hinata growled, watching as Kageyama picked up the briefcase, inspecting it to make sure there was no damage, then tugged his own backpack over his shoulder. Kageyama bit his lip.

“Hey… Tobio, it’s not your fault.”

“They went after you… Because of me.” Hinata rolled his eyes and snorted.

“Pfft. Nah, they’re just pissed ‘cuz we’ve been taking over their territory. They’re on high alert.” Kageyama was not convinced, but Hinata seemed otherwise injured, and seemed to have absolutely no exhaustion despite all that had happened.

“We should get out of here dumbass.”

“Yeah.” Hinata panted out. “Meatbuns?” Kageyama shot him a look, but Hinata grinned, knowing it would be a yes. He skipped up next to him, opening the door of the abandoned office space, the two heading down the stairs, and away from any back exits that could have held lingering hitmen. As soon as they were out in the open and away from any stray bullets, Hinata laced their fingers, guiding them down to the small grocers at the end of the block, knowing that the openness of it all would protect them. The cops were already on Seijoh’s tail, they weren’t about to take anymore chances.

Iwaizumi watched from afar, perched up on the fire escape Hinata had scrambled down. His eyes narrowed, fists clenched. Two others groaned behind him, wondering if it would be too late to run away and avoid punishment. Iwaizumi ’s lips twitched into a snarl, adjusting the white collar of his shirt, turning back to his men.

“Don’t think about running. That ensures your death. If you’re lucky, you’ll get away with a pay cut and a beating.” One of the men looked up at him, eyes wide.

“You’re not the s-s-slightest bit worried? About what  _ he’ll  _ do to you?” Iwaizumi snorted and watched as cop cars began to gather around the dead member of Seijoh, Hinata had shot down. He glanced back down as the red-head and his traitor boyfriend disappeared around the corner.

“I’ve proven my worth.  _ You _ on the other hand…” Iwaizumi trailed off, glowering as a growl worked its way up his throat.

“Oikawa doesn’t play games.” Iwaizumi made his way back over to the stairwell, tucking his gun away. He paused only to lean into one of the men, teeth gritting. He pressed a finger into the man’s chest. “And he certainly doesn’t play with his food.” 

…

Oikawa fiddled with the knife in his hand, a dragon engraved on the gleaming blade. He loved weapons that also held a certain elegance. Iwaizumi was always about function, always about a quick ending, and never about the pretty little things. Oikawa’s mouth tilted into a sort of fond smile, as he dragged his index finger over the blade, just light enough to tear the first layer of skin, the slit not quite deep enough to let blood ooze to the surface. He flipped the blade in his hand, catching it again, cheek pressed into his other hand out of boredom. He glanced down at the three men, fidgeting nervously in their seats. Iwaizumi stood stiffly at his sides, arms crossed firmly across his chest. Oikawa didn’t spend too long looking at Iwa, knowing it was too easily captivated by those arms and- so he had a weak spot.

He was human after all.

“So two of you failed to kill the kid? It wasn’t a hard order. And you.” Oikawa pointed to the third man. “You watched them stroll down the street and disappear, when you could have easily pulled the trigger. You get cold feet?” The man knew better than to answer, but even if he had the courage to do so, the man next to him spoke, eyes shooting daggers in Iwaizumi’s direction.

“How come Iwaizumi -san didn’t get punished?! He was there too!” Oikawa grinned, but it wasn’t comforting. A sickening feeling coiled in their stomachs the longer the silence droned on.

“Hmm. You make a good point.” Before the two men on either side of him could blink, he was dead, shoulders slumped and head pointed at the ground, blood pooling across the ground in front of them. There was a heavy silence, as the gunshot still held ringing echoes in their heads. Oikawa clapped his hands together, smile draining from his face.

“Well don’t just stand there. Clean this mess up and be happy it wasn’t your blood.” The two men scrambled to their feet, hastily, dragging the body from the room, as Oikawa inspected his nails. Iwa stood strong like a mountain to his right, an intimidating force, looming above their heads. Oikawa snapped his fingers, uncrossing his legs and stood, seemingly disgusted with the men in front of him.

“ _ Iwaizumi _ . Come.” Iwa arched an eyebrow. Oikawa was never the dominant type with him, except for show. As long as he was the great king on the board, he didn’t care if the queen was the most powerful force by his side. Iwa followed easily, finally unfolding his arms, until they were both out of sight and in the privacy of one of the training rooms. The walls of the room were filled with mirrors, all of them reflecting Oikawa’s eyes, thin like snakes swimming in the irises. But despite the looming reputation that Oikawa upheld, Iwaizumi wasn’t nervous. 

“You didn’t complete the job.” Oikawa stated simply, pulling out the dagger. He ran his fingers across the dragon, waving it in front of Iwaizumi’s eyes before placing the tip at his chin tilting his head upwards to meet his gaze. Iwaizumi licked his lips and placed his hand over Oikawa’s.

“Did you think that maybe you’re all about the show. All about appearances? A clean raw kill would be much more effective.” Iwaizumi stated simply, not daring to directly infer that the failed mission had to do anything with Oikawa. He was smarter than that, but he also knew how to push him. Oikawa pursed his lips in a pout, rolling his eyes irritably.

“I just want to destroy him. In every way possible. Death is such a relief. I want to take away all his reasons to live.” Oikawa traced the edge of the blade across Iwaizumi’s jaw, not enough pressure to break the skin of course, but just enough to prove a point. Iwaizumi huffed out. 

“And you think killing the ginger kid would do that? You want your revenge Oikawa, but you’re the stereotypical comic villain. Don't play dumb, you live for the show. You’re not one for games, not the moves on the chess board that Nekoma plays, but you still want a show.”

“Iwa-chan! You can’t say statements like that to your boss. It could result in a little spilled blood.” Oikawa’s eyes widened in thrill, his voice sickeningly sweet as he leaned closer, breath hot on Iwazami’s face. Iwa tilted his head up, eyes narrowed in concentration.

“I could rip you to shreds, shittykawa.” Oikawa grinned, perfect white teeth, reflecting against the mirrors that surrounded them. Oikawa retracted the blade, twisting it between his fingers, watching the deep red handle gleam under the light.

“Why don’t you prove it, tough guy.” Oikawa wiggled his eyebrows, but Iwa pushed away, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“No. I think I’ll make myself useful and go kill the little ginger haired brat. Since everyone else around here seems so incapable of doing it.” Iwaizumi turned around, eyes fixated on Oikawas’. “And that includes you.” Oikawa pouted, the intimidating facade slipping away almost immediately.

“Iwa-chan! What do I have to do to get laid?” Oikawa glared at him, pointing the dagger at his chest. Iwaizumi snorted.

“We can come back to the conversation after I wipe the brat’s blood off my hands… Shittykawa.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to add Oikawa and I'm not sorry about it. 
> 
> Wow I really get close to writing to make out scenes and then SIKE hahahaha. I'll write some make out's for next chapter. If you have ship requests that you want to see in here, let me know! 
> 
> I have a pretty thought out plot, so I am going in some direction (Haha I wish I could that about my life) anyway, this will probably be longer than four chapters, but for now, we'll shoot for that. Thanks so much for reading! Until next time,
> 
> -Daisy


	3. The Traitor's Move

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw shit guys, it's about to get real. MERRY EARLY CHIRSTMAS AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS!
> 
> TW: Blood, violence, you know the deal
> 
> More notes at the end!

**Three Years Prior...**

Kuroo grinned, chin tilted low, lips curled up in a sadistic sneer, jaw slack. His eyes narrowed, glancing down at the six cars before him. He shuffled them out of boredom, the cards weightless in his hands, watching the green eyes in front of him scan the table.

“Any questions?” Kuroo asked, arching an eyebrow as he watched those green eyes work. They weren’t empty like his, but they weren’t overflowing with emotion either. They held a calculating intelligence, the symbols on the cards reflected in the dark of his pupils. Kuroo thumbed the cards again, the sound not much different than a clock rapidly counting down the seconds. 

“I don’t believe so. It’s easy enough, but I do have one condition.” He looked up at Kuroo for the first time, lips pressed in a firm, thin line. Kuroo nodded, ready to hear him out, but the sky, snake-like smirk still tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Guns are trivial, don’t you think? Spilling pointless blood. It’s a waste.” He paused, reading Kuroo’s expression, and the action caused Kuroo’s smile to widen. Akaashi’s eyes then trailed down to Kuroo’s hands where he had stopped idly flicking through the cards.

“I assume you don’t want to die, neither do I. So really, there is no point to the guns being here. I suggest we don’t take lives, for that’s more of a relief then punishment but rather… take what makes us feel alive. Sounds more thrilling in actuality.” Kuroo took in his words, the calmness to them. The ease. It set him on edge admittedly, he had never met someone as collected as him when playing the game. Kuroo tapped the edge of the table top.

“What do you suggest?” Akaashi didn’t skip a beat, lining out all his cards, with no rime or reason, no strategy. Kuroo furrowed his eyebrows in curiosity.

“For every correct card, a million yen are taken. If all cards are correct, then everything in the bank goes to the winner. That is what makes you tick? The money?... or is it something else? I don’t much like getting my hands dirty, but I would suggest the death of a lover. Or maybe the throne? You do have love for power. I mean who wouldn’t? We play three rounds.”

“And what about you? You’re nothing more than an ant under my shoe. You have no power in this world. When I win, what do I take from you?”

“You can do whatever you’d like. You could take my money, my life. It shouldn’t matter. After all, I am _nothing but an ant under your shoe_ , right?” Something about him seriously bothered Kuroo, making his shoulders tense. Kuroo wasn’t about to falter as he lined out his cards, not once taking his eyes off Akaashi. Akaashi barely acknowledged his presence. 

He nodded to the bodyguard at the door. The two looked up at the screen, the dealer slowly flipping over the cards through the screen, revealing the order.

Ace of hearts, King of spades, Jack of hearts, Queen of clubs, Ace of Diamonds, and Jack of Diamonds. 

On the surface there was no pattern, no ability to cheat. Akaashi focused on the screen, eyes glued not to the symbols, but to how the dealer flipped each card, cautious, and suspenseful. Akaashi didn’t visibly react, but he realized his movements were part of the game. Kuroo leaned forward in his seat, a careful smirk on his lips as he intertwined his fingers under his chin.

“Would you like to reveal your cards first?” Kuroo asked, tone smug. Akaashi shrugged, mirroring the same suspenseful turn over of cards. He was slow and articulate as he turned over each card, the corners flicking the table with a patronizing sound. He never took his eyes off Kuroo, watching him fixate on the results.

It was always about results with Kuroo. Akaashi almost scoffed. If Kuroo had been a little more focused on the process of it all, maybe he would have noticed how Akaashi perfectly mastered the movements of the dealer, not yet significant. But the keyword was _yet_. 

“Damn. None right. It’s a real shame.” Kuroo was taunting in his tone, eyes flicking back and forth between Akaashi’s turned over cards and his own. Kuroo quickly flipped over his cards, the anticipation gnawing at him, and as he glanced between the dealer’s cards and his own, he grinned. Two of them were right.

“That’s two million yen for me.” Kuroo tapped the counter in a steady rhythm, and Akaashi found himself staring. Because maybe reading Kuroo’s eyes was impossible. But the emotion had to go somewhere, and while Akaashi’s expression didn’t shift, he smiled on the inside as he watched the way Kuroo’s hands moved. Maybe it was subconscious, but it didn’t matter now, Akaashi had caught on.

“Round two?” Akaashi asked, cutting off Kuroo’s victory smirk. Kuroo nodded, meticulous about where he placed his cards, and this time, Akaashi was too. Kuroo thought nothing of it as the guy had already lost two million yen, but he had already fallen victim to Akaashi’s game. 

The dealer laid out their cards, pausing for a minute to let the suspense and nerves build up, before he flipped them over. The screen flashed the pattern and Kuroo smirked as if he had already won. Akaashi caught it with ease, already having figured out the pattern of Kuroo’s game.

Kuroo flipped over his cards first this time, quick about doing so, glowing as he revealed four out of the six cards were correct. The probability of that was incredibly low. There were 720 different possible combinations within the six cards, and the chances of matching four out of the six was incredibly low… unless there was a loophole.

Kuroo was cheating. It was blatantly obvious, but it was only in that moment that Akaashi caught how he was doing it. Two could play at that game. Akaashi smiled for the first time, making Kuroo blink a few extra times, to make sure he was seeing this right. But the smile quickly faded as he flipped over his cards.

Three out of the six were right. 

“I guess I owe you 3 million yen.” Akaashi stated, seemingly relaxed even with the sheer amount of money he owed. Kuroo studied his cards, a pattern still not clear. Oh but it wasn’t supposed to matter, Kuroo knew the ins and outs of the game. He looked back up at the screen where the dealer shuffled the six cards, before lining them out face down. Akaashi shuffled his own cards, delaying how he placed them, watching Kuroo carefully. 

The way Kuroo placed down his cards… the movements were the exact opposite of how the dealer on the screen placed them. Akaashi cracked his knuckles, and placed his cards down, matching the movements of the dealer, but placing the cards down in the reverse order. If Kuroo had caught onto him, then the matching movements would throw him off, there was no doubt.

The human brain was fascinating. In all the ways it could be molded and shaped, all the ways it could be manipulated.

“You can flip your cards first.” Akaashi said, gesturing towards the cards laid out perfectly. Kuroo flipped over his cards. Five out of the six were correct. He smiled, tilting his head innocently in Akaashi’s direction. Akaashi said nothing as he flipped over his cards.

There was a moment of complete silence, and for Akaashi’s amusement, the first twitch of real emotion of Kuroo’s face. It was utter complete astonishment. Then rage.

“H-how…” It was all he could choke out as he cracked his knuckles. Akaashi rested his chin in his hands, mimicking Kuroo’s earlier and more confident stature as he sighed.

“It’s not hard to play the same game. The screen is mirrored I presume? So everything is actually opposite. To match it, you’d have to do it the opposite order. You’ve clearly memorized how to do that. But that begs the question, how do you recognize the cards? That took me an extra round to figure out, although I did have my suspicions. The cards you have are certainly unique. I’ve never seen anything like them.”

“Y-you, You’re not making sense! How the fuck-”

“The disappearing pattern? It only lasts long enough for a quick glance, so it's still very hard to match all six cards and match the mirroring. I must say, you have a swift eye. But I was just faster.” Kuroo’s breathing was ragged, his fists clenched in rage as he stood, kicking the chair out from underneath him and pulled out the gun, pressing the mouth of the weapon to Akaashi’s head.

“We agreed on a deal, Kuroo. You kill me, and you keep your money. But what about your reputation? You hold an advantage above everyone else with your genius gamble, guns or none. But I die after _winning_ against you? After I was an ant under your shoe? I think your own men would disagree with that honor code.” The gun still pressed to his head, Akaashi stood, smoothing out his suit jacket neatly, and leaned into the camera for the dealer to see. He said a quick thank-you, before excusing himself, leaving Kuroo exasperated with his losing hand screaming at him.

“I’ll expect my money this time next week. Oh but I had a lovely time. We should do this again soon, Tetsurou.”

…

Bokuto’s gut coiled and contorted as the two sides of his brain fought viciously, but even with the fleeting guilt, Bokuto could never be too careful. Surely he would forgive him.

_A simple test of loyalties_.

That’s what Akaashi had called it. So surely, he would understand. Bokuto let go of Akaashi’s hand as he led him down the long stretch of dark hallway towards one of the many study rooms his estate had. This one was somewhat empty, and normally ended up as a spot for his bodyguards to take a break and do some careless gambling. The room however was empty, Bokuto had made sure of that. Konoha followed on their heels, gun at the ready, even if they were in the safety of their home. Bokuto nodded as he pulled Akaashi into the room with him, motioning at Konoha to follow along.

Konoha was a great man. His loyalties never wavered, and he would protect him with his life. Bokuto sighed, but didn’t feel bad with what was about to happen.

“Why are we here Bokuto-san? Is this some sort of surprise?” Akaashi asked innocently enough, but Bokuto could tell he was scanning the room, thinking several moves ahead. Bokuto leaned against the closed door, folding his arms over his chest.

“You got me thinkin’ about loyalties and all that. And It’s made me test every one of my men.” Akaashi smiled at this, watching as Bokuto crossed the room and pulled out his gun.

“So I’m testing yours.” It was almost unnerving to see the unwavering smile on Akaashi’s face. It was as if he knew this was coming. “I want you to shoot him, for me.” Panic spread across Konoha’s face as Bokuto returned to the door “I recently found out he’s been skimming money from me.” Konoha shrunk back into the wall, eyes wide and watery as he pleaded. His gun dropped into his lap, and while he could have shot Bokuto and Akaashi, he knew better. Bokuto had never been one to lose a fight.

“What? No, no, no! No, I promise I wouldn’t! Please I’ll prove it.” Bokuto handed the gun to Akaashi, who fiddled with its weight in his hand. It was a foreign feeling, having a gun in his hands, but Akaashi knew enough of what to do. The gun was lighter than he expected. Bullets were heavy, weren’t they? He had held guns before, never to kill of course, but it was strange the lightweightedness of it.

“You have to shoot somebody in the room. Prove your loyalties. Shoot the traitor.” Bokuto watched carefully, ignoring Konoha’s pleas, his best hitman suddenly turned to mush. Akaashi glanced back at Bokuto, who watched in amusement. Bokuto knew how much Akashi hated blood. It was all to try and test him. But if Akaashi really did want power, he had full opportunity to shoot and kill Bokuto, at no expense either. He could kill him and take power.

_Kill somebody in the room._ Akaashi bit back a smile. He loved a gamble almost as much as he loved a well thought out plan.

“Okay.” He responded, lifting his arm and roughly pressing the mouth of the gun against his own temple. He stared Bokuto down as he watched in sudden horror, jaws going slack and eyes widening in fear. He reached out a hand, a scream working it’s way up his throat, frantically sprinting towards him.

Akaashi pulled the trigger.

And nothing.

So Akaashi was right. There were no bullets in the chamber.

“W-w-what? Akaashi?! What are you doing?!”

“You said to shoot somebody in this room. To test my loyalties and I chose myself. I wouldn’t shoot you, and I wouldn’t shoot Konoha, because Konoha is your best man who I know would never take money from you. You pay him exceptionally well. But somebody had to be shot and so I chose myself… except the second I made that action, I could tell there were no bullets in the gun. The guns’ too light.”

Akaashi lowered the gun and popped open the chamber, revealing two bullets filling the otherwise empty chamber of six. Akaashi hummed in surprise. It really had been a gamble.

“Akaashi…”

“Did that prove my loyalty? I can do something else if need be.” Akaashi asked in full honesty. He handed the weapon back to Bokuto, and helped Konoha stand on his feet. “I’m sorry Konoha. I hope I didn’t scare you.” Konoha nodded, thanking him, and sending a deadly glare in Bokuto’s direction. 

“Yes… yes… I- Why?” Bokuto looked up at him with wide eyes, utterly flabbergasted.

“I would never do anything that would put you or your future in jeopardy. You mean too much to me.” The answer held every bit of truth to it, even if it was reckless and rash. Akaashi knew every piece on the gameboard, and there was nothing he would sacrifice for Bokuto. The look in Bokuto’s eyes said it went both ways.

…

Daichi got home not long after dark. Normally he enjoyed staying out, maybe do a little gambling, or hang out with Asahi. But tonight, he had an awful feeling rippling through him, and he often trusted his gut. He wasn’t sure why he was feeling this way, but it was easier to get home.

The penthouse was at the top of the building with an incredible view. Suga would no doubt be there already, probably on lengthy phone calls with Kiyoko, the woman only seemed to be talkative with him. But Daichi didn’t go to the penthouse, instead he made his way to the seventh floor, where the large apartment complex was. He didn’t knock as he entered one of the apartments, a grand entrance and crystal chandelier radiating a warm glow as he came in. 

“Hinata?” He called out, searching for the kid and maybe Kageyama if he was there too. Silence followed, making Daichi shift his gaze uneasily, slowly drawing out his weapon. 

“Hinata?” He called again, and when silence was his only answer, he traveled further into the apartment, glancing at the white marble kitchen finding it completely empty, and made his way to the living room, also empty.

Their shoes were at the door, they were home… unless. Daichi pushed the thought from his head and continued to make his way through the house, finding that the hallway that held the bedrooms and gym was dark. Daichi crept down the hall, gun at the ready, and eyes narrowed until he came out the door that led to Hinata’s room. He cautiously swung open the door, gun pointed but was met with flushed faces and gasps.

“Jesus fuck!” Daichi screeched, whipping back around.

“What the hell, Daichi?! Kageyama snapped rolling off of Hinata who was wide eyed and slightly dazed. 

“Ah Boss! Sorry we didn’t answer the door! We were uh… busy.” Daichi growled and tucked his gun away.

“Yeah you sure were. Sorry for interupting your little make-out.” Hinata shoved Kageyama off the bed, his boyfriend falling to the ground with a _thunk_ and ignored his cursing as he crossed the room to the doorway. “Is everything okay?” Hinata adjusted his now wrinkled shirt, shooting a glare back at Kageyama who was still bringing himself to his feet.

“I heard what happened with Seijoh. I wanted to check up on you.” Hinata smiled, glancing over his shoulder at Kageyama.

“It was fine! Nobody can get to him as long as I’m around!” Hinata grinned proudly, jabbing his thumb into his chest.

“Dumabass! I don't need your protection.” Kageyama hissed, throwing his shirt at him. Rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, Hinata stepped out into the hallway with Daichi, closing the door behind him, even despite Kageyam’s protests.

“It was close. They’re getting closer and closer every day, sir.”

“Hinata, I can hear it in your voice. You’re worried I’m going to toss Kageyama out because it's a liability. I’m not, and you know that. The two of you are far too talented, and I don’t do that to my men. This building is the safest place in the world for you and I’d like the two of you to stay on lockdown. Just until things calm down. There’s a lot going on right now.” Daichi’s eyes darkened as if he was talking about something else entirely, making Hinata stiffen.

“Is everything alright, boss? Uh, you can stay for dinner if you want! Kageyama makes great soba!” Daichi waved his hand and shook his head, the tension still noticeable in his shoulders.

“That’s alright, Hinata. Go back to your- er- business.” Daichi sent him a wink and excused himself from the room, leaving Hinata standing in the doorway.

What had that been about? Sure, Daichi was the closest thing to a father Hinata had had, and Daichi was a good man when it came to his loyalties… but checking up on him? It was unusual. Surely the Seijoh incident didn’t make him that nervous? Unless there was something bigger happening… Hinata shook the thought away and slipped back into the bedroom.

…

There was something fascinating about the way Bokuto walked. He always held such confidence, almost as if he was a god, knowing full well the stretches of his power, the death that was bought with a snap of his fingers, and the control of the gameboard. He walked without so much as a glance over his shoulder, an action that would be dangerous in this line of work if it wasn’t for his status. His hands were always clenched in fists, as if he was already for a fight, but never seeking one out, and his eyes reflected the gold in his pockets and the brightness of his future… at least that’s what Akaashi saw.

And he’d be willing to do anything to make sure it stayed that way.

“You’re home early.” Akaashi commented as he pulled off his suit jacket, the black material matching his hair well. He pulled off the silver tie, folding it neatly over the chair where Bokuto had dumped his clothes.

“Hmm, I couldn’t wait to see you.” Bokuto lifted himself from his desk, crossing the room. His white undershirt was bright in contrast to the dim lighting of the room, the only source being the lamp desk, overlooking his work. Bokuto wrapped his arms around Akaashi’s waist, pulling him close enough that their bodies were pressed tightly together.

“I didn’t miss an important date, did I?” Akaashi whispered low, his voice on the edge of teasing, but still radiating an elegance that Bokuto loved. Bokuto pressed their foreheads together, grinning.

“I shouldn’t need an excuse to love you.” Bokuto whispered back, this time a much less innocent tone lacing his words. Akaashi arched an eyebrow.

“You’re impossible. You won’t even let me change out of these stuffy work clothes.” Bokuto’s grin widened.

“Oh I can help with that.” Akaashi let out a breathy laugh, but Koutarou swiftly cut him off, kissing him firmly, sucking the breath from Keiji’s lungs. He found that Bokuto did that a lot; left him breathless and starstruck.

“Koutarou- you are very impatient.”

“Fuck how can I not be?” Keiji laughed, unbuttoning the top button of his dress shirt, slow and cautious, eyeing Koutarou smugly. Koutarou growled at him and ripped the shirt clean open, the buttons snapping and falling to the ground in little droplets.

“I’ll buy you a new one.” He snapped out, quickly tugging Keiji towards him again, crashing their mouths together in urgency. Keiji smiled into him, letting his hands roam over Koutarou’s hips.

It always started like this. The rough urgency, like they could not get close enough to each other. But it always dissolved into something much softer in the end. Like listening to crickets chirp as a steady breeze hummed through the cracked window, gracing bare skin, making goosebumps prickle up and down the lengths of their arms and legs. It was not a sight that anyone would associate with either of them, for Koutarou was all about the ocean of blood, and Keiji was a steel hurricane, with a mind to rival Einstein’s. But it was in these hours of the twilight, which they laid exhausted, chests no longer heaving for air and tangled limbs like rose vines where they simply them.

Koutarou ran his fingers up and down the length of Keiji’s spine, feeling the muscle relax into him, his face pressed into Keiji’s messy hair. Keiji looped an arm around his hips, pressing his cheek into Koutarou’s collarbone, sighing contently as he pressed his lips to the skin there, slow and lazy. It was easy to think about nothing at all in these slow moments, letting the warmth of their bodies be the protection they needed from the cool night breeze, since the blankets were long kicked to the floor.

“Hey Keiji?” Koutarou hummed out. Keiji lifted his head groggily, meeting Koutarou’s golden gaze. “Marry me one day?” Keiji couldn’t hold back his smile or the deep flush of his cheeks, so he buried his head in Koutaou’s neck.

“Keiji! You gotta answer meee.” Koutarou whined, pinching his hips playfully. Keiji let out a muffled laugh, digging further into the crook of his neck to hide.

“Propose properly and I’ll say yes.” Keiji smiled into his skin and Koutarou laughed, bright and easy, pulling Akaashi on top of him. Akaashi turned his head just to kiss the edge of Koutarou’s jaw.

“What counts as a proper proposal?” Keiji shook his head, unable to hold back his smile.

“Not after sex. That’s number one. And maybe at least take me to a nice restaurant first and get down on one knee.”

“That’s so… normal!” Koutarou wrinkled his nose. Keiji nodded.

“That’s what I want to be when I’m with you.” Koutarou smiled and tilted Keiji’s chin up, just enough to kiss him on the lips and press their forehead together. 

“I can do that, Keiji… I can do that.” There was a moment of silence, calm and sweet, both drifting lightly to the other’s steady heartbeat and synched breathing, completely immersed in each other’s presence, that they didn’t realize that the crickets had stopped chirping.

Bokuto closed his eyes, and even the light from the moon’s glow couldn’t have warned them sooner.

It was the sound of Akaashi’s screams that startled him awake, for he had long since gone numb to the sound of gunfire. But as soon as he registered both sounds, the windows shattering, glass pelting them like hail, he was brought to his senses, and leapt out of bed to shield his world from the violence.

“Keiji! GET DOWN!” 

…

**Years Ago...**

“I win!” Kuroo cried triumphantly as he took in the state of Bokuto’s hand.

“No fair! You always win!” Bokuto protested, throwing down his hand of cards. His three aces and two fours tumbled onto the radium lawn as Kuroo carefully placed his cards on the ground. A royal flush. A part of him wanted to keep the deck this way, show his father, but he quickly squashed the thought as he gathered up the rest of the cards, placing Bokuto’s on top. Kuroo started shuffling, the crisp deck smacking against his palm. 

“Wanna play again?” Bokuto huffed.

“Absolutely not.” Kurro grinned and spread his arms out, laying back into the grass.

“You’re a cheater. I don’t know how you do it, but I know it. Cheater,” Bokuto said again, but there was no venom behind it. He lay down next to Kuroo.

“If they can’t prove it, if they can’t catch you, then you’re not,” Kuroo said before furrowing his eyebrows. “At least, that’s what Dad says.”

“Your dad’s kind of weird.” Kuroo immediately rounded on Bokuto.

“Hey, he’s good at what he does! He’s just trying to make sure when I take over the family business, I don’t mess up.” Bokuto turned his big amber eyes towards Kuroo.

“So you don’t mess up? Shouldn’t he be worried about whether this is the life for you, if you’re going to be any good at it?”

“Of course this is the life for me! I’m a Kuroo- it’s in our blood! You can’t tell me your dad doesn’t do the same thing!” Bokuto’s silence told Kuroo everything.

“Your dad… he wants out?” Bokuto turned his eyes back to the sky, as if the clouds suddenly held a message he urgently had to decode. 

“He doesn’t. But I think he wants more for me. He wants me to go to school, Kuroo. He wants me to have as normal of a life as I can. Because if he could do it over, that’s what he’d want. He’d want to be able to wake up and have a cup of coffee and not worry if someone slipped something into it. He’d want to go a day without ruining a suit. He’d want to be able to have friends, not worry if they were going to shoot him the second he turned his back. Doesn’t that sound nice, Kuroo? To be normal.” Kuroo snorted.

“Normal is boring.” But he didn’t believe that, not really. What he wouldn’t give to be normal, to be ordinary, to not have his father breathing down his neck, telling him Nekoma’s leader had to be smarter, faster, better than he was.

“I like my life,” but they both knew he was lying. Because not even their friendship could escape the shadow their family’s businesses cast over them, because in their world, the only difference between being friends and enemies was knowing when the other person was lying.

“Your life seems messed up. Your life seems sad,” Bokuto said plainly. Between the two of them, Bokuto was braver in that regard, speaking his mind. Or maybe he was stupider. Kuroo had never really been sure. 

“I know,” said Kuroo, and it hurt him to admit that, that he wasn’t the perfect little soldier his father wanted him to be, the criminal mastermind his lineage should have made him.

“We could leave.” Kuroo almost choked on his own saliva.

“Excuse me?” Bokuto propped himself up onto one elbow so he could face Kuroo.

“We could steal one of the jets, take it back to the beach off the coast of Barcelona. Oo! Or maybe the Black Sea! You know, the place where our families first met? From there, we could take one of the yachats. We could find an island and claim it for ourselves. No one would ever know where we are! It’d just be me and you, against the world.” Kuroo started laughing, a harsh barking noise, but his heart wasn’t behind it. He still laughed, though. 

“What?” Bokuto said, clearly caught off-guard by Kuroo’s reaction. Kuroo let the laugh die in his throat.

“There isn’t a single place on this planet we could go that our parents wouldn’t find us. You know that, Bo.” Bokuto sighed as he layed back down.

“I know. It was a dumb idea anyway.” Kuroo nodded.

“Yeah, you’re full of those.” Bokuto swatted him, making him snicker.

“You’re supposed to disagree and tell me what a great plan maker I am, not agree with me!” 

“I call it like I see it,” Kuroo said, shuffling away from Bokuto as he tried to roll on top of and flatten Kuroo. He laughed as he kicked Bokuto’s shin, Bokuto grabbing at his shirt. The boys started rolling around on the yard like two lion cubs playing with each other, all grunts and growls as they tussled. Kuroo had the upper hand in the brains department-not that Bokuto was dumb, but Kuroo knew how to analyze his actions, anticipate his moves. Still, Bokuto had always been the bigger of the two, his body mass making up for what his brain lacked. Kuroo grunted as Bokuto landed a kick to the ribs.

“You little-” Suddenly, Kuroo felt weightless, his body tugged up and away from Bokuto’s. Hands clamped firmly around his biceps as he struggled against them.

“There's the little bastard,” came the voice, one that Kuroo knew well.

“Bokuto-san, what’s happening?” Kuroo heard a clip unhooking, the same sound he would hear when his father pulled his gun from the holster.

“Dad, no!” he heard Bokuto yell as he struggled against the grip of his own guards. Bokuto’s father leveled the gun against Kuroo’s forehead. He could feel the lip of the gun against his skin, cooling where it touched. 

“I’ll tell you what’s happening. His father put out a hit on my wife,” he said, his voice cracking a little. “So you know what happens? I come home to find my wife dead on the floor, a pool of blood around her head.” Kuroo heard a metallic click as he unlocked the safety of the gun. 

“They killed her?” Kuroo said, his own voice breaking. Kuroo had loved Bokuto’s mom. She was the closest thing he had to a real mother, the only source of maternal love both he and Bokuto had in this cold world. 

“Don’t act like you’re sorry,” Bokuto’s father growled. “Nekomata probably sent you over here to do it yourself, but the hitman got there first. Or maybe you were a diversion!” Kuroo could hear the reason slipping from this man’s voice, his anger and grief driving him to do something, anything, to beat it back. This man, who sat on the throne of the greatest gang in all of Japan, had just lost the queen on his chessboard, the throne next to him now vacant and cold. 

“Sir, I swear on my life, I didn’t know anything, I would never wish this done, not to her, not to you and Bokuto.”

“Dad, listen to him!” Bokuto pleaded. “She loved him too. You know that.” His eyes dimmed.

“She had a soft spot for everything unwholly, everything broken. She saw a part of herself in those shards, I guess. I told her it’d be the death of her, but I never thought I’d be right, I never thought-” a noise somewhere between a wail and a growl tore itself from his chest, the gun wavering slightly against Kuroo’s head. Then the gun fell away. Bokuto’s eyes widened, finally beginning the process of the idea of loss and how it ripped his heart from his chest. Despite his fathers ragged warning to stay away from the house, Bokuto scrambled to his feet and ran into the house where his mother was.

Kuroo squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of Bokuto screaming for his mom.

They were just boys after all. 

“No one sits on the thrones by accident. No one sits on the thrones because they are compassionate. You understand?” Bokuto’s father said, the light in his eyes fractured. Kuroo didn’t, but he nodded anyway, because he knew that was what he wanted. 

“I will let you go this once, for the sake of all those years of friendship, because I do not take the lives of those my friends love, because she loved you. But you run back to your father, and you tell him this means war. Tell him I will crush him beneath the heel of my shoe and smear his blood across my throne.” Kuroo backed away, nodding, his heart hammering in his chest, emotions rising and falling and crashing down on him like waves in the ocean. He risked one last glance at Bokuto’s silhouette through the window of the house, his amber eyes wide, the innocence and hope that had lain in their depth moments before vanished, like the flame from a candle extinguished. 

“Run now, Kuroo. Before I change my mind.” Kuroo turned on his heel, running away from his deck of cards, the emerald lawn, the fluffy white clouds, from Bokuto. Even as he ran, he could hear him calling after him, repeating the same phrase over and over, as if it was some macabre nursery rhyme.

“Someone is always the traitor. Run, little rooster, before I change my mind. Run, run, Kuroo. Someone is always the traitor. Run.”

...

“Uh, boss…” Kuroo’s head snapped up, running a hand through his hair. His head pounded but he wasn’t about to let on that his vision felt blurry and his heart was pounding in his ears. Why the horrible feeling was pulsing through him, he wasn’t sure… okay so maybe the headache was a result of a killer hangover.

“What?!” Kuroo snapped, sitting up and adjusting his tie. He hated the damn things, it made him feel like he was being strangled, but appearances were important. 

“You… Well, Fukorodani was attacked last night. I thought you should be made aware. Unless you had something to do with it, then I suppose you know already.” Kuroo tilted his head, scrutinizing the words that were being spoken to him. 

“Really? Do you have any details?” Kuroo sat on the edge of his seat, the dull throbbing not forgotten, but at least set aside for the moment being. 

“It was the head that was attacked, umm, at his estate.. It was a failed attempt… so does this mean it wasn’t you?” Kuroo scoffed.

“I’m not a traitor. And anyway, I’m much more calculated with my attacks. I’m not rash and unreasonable like my father. Go dig up more information. You’re dismissed.” He nodded and hurried from the room, careful to remember to shut the large oak door behind him. Kuroo cracked his knuckles and leaned back.

So suddenly there was a threat against Fukorodani? Just days after his talk with Bo? Something about that seemed oddly suspicious. Surely Kuroo was the only who knew of Akaashi; at least on the level of closeness between Bo and him. So someone had attacked the estate? That meant someone was after Bokuto… or were they after Akaashi? That then begged the question, how did they know Akaashi would be there? The only person who could have possibly known… was him. Kuroo’s eyes widened, quickly fumbling for his gun.

Someone had to have framed him. 

That was the only possibility, right? Kuroo stood, realizing he had just shooed off his bodyguard, and even if he was highly experienced in combat, there was no way he could fight off a Fukorodani hitman. Someone had framed him. Someone wasn’t out to get Fukurodani, someone was out to get _him_ , and they were being very strategic about it. Before he could much further, the double doors across the room flew open and three gunshots pierced the air around him, and Kuroo squeezed his eyes shut, prepared for the blossoms of pain and blood, but it didn’t come.

Bokuto stood behind the pistol, breath ragged, eyes bolting with rage.

“You did this.” He said uncharacteristically calm for a moment. His voice was like the clock of a grenade seconds counting down to its explosion. Kuroo watched carefully, taking in the way Bokuto stood on the offensive, and after all these years, Bokuto was still larger than him. The gun in his hand was merely an extension of his body, and while Bokuto always favored hand to hand combat, he rarely missed.

There was a moment of silence, so thick it swallowed both of them whole, and behind the rage bolting in Bokuto’s eyes, was pain. Betrayal.“YOU DID THIS! Traitor! You will always be the traitor!” Before Kuroo could open his mouth to respond, Bokuto had shoved him against the bookshelf, his head slamming back into the collection of antique novels, many of them clambering to the floor from the force. Bokuto’s hands were wrapped around the collar of his shirt, and in the brief second Kuroo could glance down, he noticed the star ring was gone. 

Bokuto pressed him harder against the bookshelf, lips twitching into a snarl.

“I’m going to kill you. I’m gonna fucking kill you!” Bokuto sneered, pulling a hand away only to reel it back and slam it into Kuroo’s face. Kuroo slumped back into the shelves, quickly composing himself after the initial shock of it all, and grabbed at Bokuto’s suit, tearing him off. Bokuto took the movement as a retaliation to the hit and swing his fist again, but Kuroo caught it and pushed him away.

“Bokuto! Think clearly! I didn’t do anything!” Normally Kuroo would be more strategic about how he placed his words, letting an unnatural calm sweep over him, a level headedness that was not to be underestimated. But now, the world seemed to move too fast. He wouldn't do this, surely Bo knew that deep down. But Bo was too far gone, letting the emotions wash over him like a tsunami and powering his actions. Kuroo wished that maybe he could be a little more like him. But he too was so far gone, he couldn’t make anything sound sincere anymore. It was a miracle he still looked human

“The hell you didn’t! You put a hit out on _him_. Your men came into my home and tried to kill him! Don’t fucking play your games with me, you liar! You traitor!” Bokuto hissed, slamming another fist into his face. It certainly did nothing to help his headache, Kuroo thought bitterly as the force threw him back into the wall. Kuroo regained his footing, giving up the will to not attack, and launched himself at Bokuto, tackling him to the ground and pinning him there.

“I didn’t put the hit out on Akaashi! I thought about it, I did! But I remember what happened when we were boys! I wasn’t going to resort to that!” Bokuto paused only for a succinct second, before wiggling his knee out of Kuroo’s grip and slamming his foot into Kuroo’s chest, kicking him to the ground.

“How do I know you’re not lying?! All you ever do is lie! You fucking did this! I’m going to rip away everything you love!” Kuroo’s lips twitched into a sneer, before charging, slamming Bokuto against the desk, hitting him against the jew, blood pooling at the corners of his mouth. Bokuto wasted no time, ramming his foot into Kuroo’s knee, knocking him back, setting him off balance.

“I don't know what I have to say, Bo! I _didn’t_ do this! I wouldn’t, not to you. Please.” Kuroo panted out, resting his hands on his knees as he bent over. He flicked his gaze up to Bo and watched the anger slowly seep out into a scrutinizing glower, before that two seemed to disintegrate into a new expression entirely. Kuroo exhaled heavily.

“I-” Bokuto choked out, suddenly going pale in the face. Kuroo narrowed his eyes at this, caught off guard by the sudden change. He wished he could ask Bokuto to read his eyes, to see that he wasn’t lying, but there would be none of that. Kuroo didn’t know a world outside of manipulation and games that only resulted in bloodshed.

Kuroo wished he had taken Bokuto upon that running away idea years ago.

But that time was gone, so there wasn’t a point to dwelling on it. Kuroo raised his head, brows furrowed as he held out a hand.

“I didn’t do this. I think someone made it look like it was me. Which means someone knows more than they should. I wouldn’t risk this alliance of a petty need for revenge. I’m not like that. You of all people should know that.” Bokuto’s clenched jaw went slack as his eyes filled with remorse. For what though? Remorse for who? The boys they once were, or perhaps never could be? Remorse for someone Kuroo didn’t know? Did Bo believe him? Did he feel guilty about beating the shit out of him? No, this… this was something else entirely, but Kuroo didn’t have enough time to think it through. 

His phone rang. Bokuto’s eyes widened, almost frantic, but once Kuroo was sure he wasn’t going to attack him again, he fished out his phone and pressed it to his ear, trying to catch his breath. 

“I’m in the middle of something! This better be fucking good-”

“Sir… Kenma’s dead.” The whole world went black.

The words oozed from the phone in slow motion, like the world was rocking back and forth on ocean waves, making him sway with a sickening feeling contorting his insides. The world went black but Kuroo was still standing, still staring at Bokuto as the pieces began to slowly come together. His response was delayed, everything was delayed because Kuroo’s world went black, and Kuroo’s world was dead.

_Kenma was dead._ How did this happen? He was in Moscow for a reason. No… no it wasn’t possible. Kuroo had just talked to him. How… no one was supposed to know where he was… no one except for… Kuroo looked at Bokuto, who was now ghostly in color.

Then the world went red.

“You… you killed him” Kuroo began to register the situation, but a blurry view of Bokuto in front of him only enraged him further. He barely realized that Lev was on the other line, but Kuroo had whipped out his gun so fast that he didn’t even process the action until he watched the deep red color blossoming against the stark white of Bokuto shirt and the gunshot echo was long out of range and nothing more than a numb feeling prickling against Kuroo’s trigger finger. The roses of blood gathered against Bokuto’s shirt as his glassy eyes glanced up from Kuroo, and back down to the blood. He crumpled to the floor. Kuroo tossed the gun to the ground and stalked from the room, already preparing for an escape… and then a war.

Bokuto bled out on his office floor, but he couldn’t find the strength to care

_There will always be a traitor._

It was the only thought in his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The flashback with Kuroo and Bokuto was written by my good friend, so I must give credit where credit's due! Thank you all so much for reading!
> 
> Come find me on tumblr!
> 
> Oh okay, so let me clarify that Akaashi was not killed, and he's not injured, for those who are worried... Kenma and Bokuto are a slightly different story. Nothing is what it seems though, so hang in there. Until next time,
> 
> -Daisy

**Author's Note:**

> Idk where this is going or what I'm doing... but I hope you enjoyed!! Until Next time,
> 
> -Daisy


End file.
